What Makes a Man
by Yaji's Girl
Summary: Vegeta learns that real men are not like Saibamen.


**I typically don't like stories about Vegeta's childhood, but if you don't like them either, I hope you will make an exception for this one. I actually do like this quite a bit, and I hope that you will like it, too.  
**

With his tough, leathered skin touching the cool glass, he picked the tiny vial up gingerly by the tips of his fingers, holding it in awe up to the light. A triumphant smile glowed on his hardened, bird-like face as he held the sample up to the lights adorning the laboratory, a round of applause from a few of his assistants behind him. Finally, they had managed to perfect the specimen, a perfect fighting companion. His swelling heart beat with pride, astounded by this moment. After nearly two years of working in this laboratory researching and developing, developing and researching, they had all finally done it. It was finished.

He lifted his beak to the air, allowing the sweet glory in his creation to sink in. Placing the vial back in its rack with the rest of them, he turned around as a rare smile crossed his brown face. The rest of his crew were also looking rather pleased with themselves, beaming as they stared at the tiny test tubes sitting along the counter, as if waiting for something to happen. There was only one scientist who didn't look terribly happy with the results, standing in the corner. It was Malaka.

He ignored the taller, discontented reptile as he one of the others called, "Let's see them in action! Come on! It's been two years - I think we should be able to celebrate a little!" The rest of the laboratory cheered alongside him, all except for Malaka. He remained aside from the others, watching with curiosity, if anything. Yes, it was a project finished after a few years of intense labor, but he still wasn't satisfied. After this, he knew, Frieza would only demand another fighting machine from them, the next one stronger and cheaper. He huffed as he tried to loosen the tension building in his back a little. He wanted to be able to celebrate, too, but there was something evil underneath the surface of these inventions.

Rittail, the head scientist of the group, smiled as largely as possible for somebody with a beak. Pretending to be hesitant about these creatures, their creations, he started off by saying, "No, no, I don't think so. I want them to be well rested enough for Lord Frieza, you know." He then laughed as the others refused his refusal, protesting with cries of want and need. He finally gave in to their pleas, hushing them, "Fine, I suppose this once. But if Lord Frieza finds out, it's not my problem."

Another round of cheers resounded through the room, though Malaka edge closer to the door. He began feeling uncomfortable there, uncertain of what would happen. The first and only time they had allowed one of these creatures to live was under intense sleeping gases, with guards standing at every corner. With a power level of two hundred, the project had been considered a success. A group of these would easily be as strong, if not stronger, than the average non-Saiyan battalions. Prospects certainly looked good, but Malaka thought he knew better. There was always a difference in power level when something was sleeping and when something wasn't, but Rittail had shooed him off, insisting that the difference would be minimal. An unsteady feeling had grown within Malaka with the uncertainty of what they would be like awake.

He was stopped in his tracks as he heard one of the other assistants ask, "What are you planning on calling them?" This had been a question brought up ever since they had performed that test run, the creature in a deep slumber. Rittail had suggested nothing at the time, still unsure of what he thought of them. But now, it appeared he had an answer.

Pausing in the midst of his promenade across the laboratory and to the counter, he stood there in thought. Then, with a bit of nervousness, Rittail shrugged and admitted, "Well, after seeing those things for the first time, I kind of had a name come to me. It's stupid, but..." He trailed off as the rest of the laboratory encouraged him, eager to hear his opinion. Even Malaka watched with interest as his superior smiled finally saying, "Okay, I'll tell you." The roars died down as everybody watched intently. The small, bird-like man with rough, brown skin smiled to himself, pleased by the name. "I want to call it a Saibaman."

The room was silent as Malaka clenched his teeth, a slight anger rising in his chest at the name. Saibaman? Up in space, he knew that 'man' had a lot of different meanings, but he knew that those things were not men. They were monsters. He crossed his arms, unable to shake himself of the feeling that this was the beginning of something bad. So upset by this choice in words, met by even more laughter and gratitude by the other men in that room, he decided to press his hand against the panel and leave the laboratory.

Those things, with their nasty, green bodies and cruel eyes redder than his own mohawk, they were not men. He wasn't sure what was technically considered to be a man, but he knew that those things were not.

* * *

The young Prince Vegeta grunted as he took another swing at the other Saiyan, a taller, more formidable boy. He gritted his teeth in exasperation with his father sitting in the throne room with his hand clenched around a goblet. The other boy was nervous, and though he was the top fighter in his class, fighting in front of the king was completely different. He had heard that the prince was a good opponent, considering his stubby size and young age, but he had never expected him to be this fierce and serious. Most of the boys did not have the aspiration to become great warriors, but there was something different about the prince. He could see the intensity in the four-year-old's expression, his intentions of pummeling him within an inch of his life frighteningly clear.

After the boy blocked the prince's attack, he returned the favor by pushing the smaller boy down. He stepped back, assuming the prince would admit defeat, but he did no such thing. Only enraged by the eight-year-old getting the best of him, he wiped his mouth of any spit crusting around its edges and leapt back up, prepared to continue sparring. King Vegeta smiled in appreciation of his son's efforts, but he was fairly certain that the older boy would be too much of a match even for him. His son had been culturing quite an ego lately, and he knew that this defeat would be a good thing in the end. He might have to put up with a snotty attitude for a few days, but there was something about losing every once and a while that was good for the soul. He had learned that the hard way when he had been a small boy.

But the king was surprised by his son's efforts, having not thought that his son would rebound from his fall. The arrogant prince managed a cocky laugh, claiming in his pipsqueak voice, "You shall bow down to me!" Then, with a lunge of power he had never seen such a young Saiyan use, he punched the taller boy's stomach with all of his might. The older boy collapsed to his knees as some of the medical squad came out into the makeshift arena, carrying the injured competitor away to the rejuvenation chambers. The young Vegeta dusted his hands effortlessly, glancing up at his father for approval. But the king was too stunned to say anything to his son, simply rising from his place on the throne.

The tall Saiyan made his was down the steps leading up to his royal seat until he was down on the ground level, standing next to his strong son. Placing a hand on his son's shoulder, he asked, "Did you know that you would be able to do that to the boy? Or were you simply bluffing?" But the smirk the smaller version of himself delivered almost perturbed him, seeing the confidence in his son's actions as he crossed his arms.

"Of course I knew, Father," the young Saiyan said, a growing grin on his face. "There is no way that sorry peasant could have even compared to me. I like to play it the fun way, allowing them to think they actually have a chance. Then, when they drop their guard, I give it everything I have." The snarky voice and that playful smile worried the older Saiyan. It was apparent that his son had much to learn.

But before he could utter a word to his son, one of the servants came bursting into the room, kneeling down immediately as he rushed his words. "Sire, there's been an emergency!" he said, the urgency in his tone immediately capturing the king's attention. "Down in the labs, one of the experiments broke free, killing all of the scientists in the room! Please, sire; we're having trouble subduing the creature, and all of the others that are powerful enough are either gone conquering planets or are recovering!"

The king scowled as he pulled Vegeta by the shoulder, saying, "Come, son." He followed the orange, ogreish man out of the room and down the corridors, walking at a brisk pace as he demanded, "What is the power level of the creature?"

"O-over a thousand, sire," he stuttered with a gulp.

Incredulously, King Vegeta barked, "Over a thousand?" His grip tightened on his son's shoulder, Vegeta having a hard time keeping up as he pressed on even more quickly. "What was a creature of that power doing without additional security?"

His cape waved flapped behind him from his speed as he released his son, forcing Vegeta to almost break out into a run to keep up with his father's speed. Even the servant was having difficulty keeping up with the king, panting, "Well, sire, when tests were run on him, his power level showed to be merely two hundred." The king surpassed the servant, now leading the way as he felt the threatening energy source. "The scientists thought that it would- Oh, oh, this way, sire," he said quite suddenly, pointing down another hallway that Vegeta had marched past. Then, as they continued their pace, almost running now, he explained further, "Their tests were quite wrong, I'm afraid. But there's nothing to do now. All of them are dead, all except for one of them who apparently was not in the room at the time the creature was released."

King Vegeta growled, now gliding down the hallway with his feet barely drifting off the floor in flight. The servant and prince stopped as they watched the king disappear down the hallway, amazed by the anger he was displaying. Then the prince pushed past the servant, chasing after his father as quickly as possible. There was no way that he would miss out on this chance to test out his strength. One of those creatures couldn't be that difficult; he wasn't exactly sure of what a power level was, but he was certain that his father was simply overreacting. An impressive number would be much higher than a thousand, one that the young prince couldn't count to.

Still, whatever was making his father so worked up was definitely worth seeing.

He pushed past a few retreating scientists, the rest already having abandoned their work stations. There was one apprehensive one, however, that was simply standing there, his reptilian face and orange mohawk catching the young prince's eye. But he only pushed past that scientist, not giving a second thought as to why he might have just been standing there, that anxious expression on his face.

When the young Vegeta finally reached a pair of open doors, he saw his father in there, standing in the room with his hand wrapped in his cape. He pouted, upset that he had already missed the excitement, when he saw his father turn to him with a deadened look in his eye. It was something that the prince had seen very rarely on his father's face, something he had always found mysterious and intriguing. To see his father so hurt, so defeated, was almost a triumph on the prince's part. It proved that his father wasn't invincible, that his father wasn't able to withstand everything, that he had a chance of going beyond his father's strength, his father's power.

The older Vegeta's stuck expression made the younger one hesitant to enter. The austere expression his father always wore had never been welcoming, but this was an especially cold look as he waved his arm around the laboratory, inviting his son in. As Vegeta came into the room, he saw the damage caused by this mysterious creature. The containers of liquids were broken, the glass having scattered across the floor as green fluid spilled from it. A large amount of soil was also spread out, as were unconscious men. But as Vegeta looked more closely, he noticed that they were not merely unconscious. They were dead, their bodies draped on top of one another. It was then that he saw a tiny, green thing lying by his father's feet, a blast through its chest. The prince drew in a quick intake of breath, shocked as the tiny thing began writhing in pain, spilling a putrid, plasma as it did so. Trying to be strong, he watched the thing, but his father took no notice in it. He only had eyes for his son.

"Son," he started, his voice gravelly as his brown beard twitched. "This is a sad day. It's a day in which Lord Frieza has begun his reign of terror on our planet. Look at this mess." He extended his arm again, displaying its horrors. "This is not what is meant to come of our technology. We may be a brutal people, but not a people of science. It's troubling, my son."

The prince continued to stare at the green creature on the ground, though, flinching as it flinched. But, trying to keep up a facade of courage for his father, he shrugged and said, "It's not that bad. There are always more scientists."

He immediately wished he could retract that statement, because with the glare his father was giving him, he simply wanted to hide in his over-sized Saiyan armor. With his hands clenched by his side, the king said sharply, "Son, that's no way to think. That's an inhuman way to think, a way that will never allow you to become the man I see deep inside of you. There is more to you than meets the eye, son, but you have to be the one to unlock your own potential. You must become a man, compassionate yet fierce, knowing where the delicate balance lies between the two." With a sigh, his eyes locked on to the small boy before him. "You must never give completely into your instincts to become this monster." He pointed towards the writhing creature with a gloved hand. "Become a man."

The prince was only ever ashamed in front of his father, and that was very rare. But now he stood, quite abashed, in front of his father as he nodded his head. "Yes, Father," was all he murmured, refusing to meet his father's eyes. To make his father proud was all he wanted. And, to his relief, the strange scientist he had seen in the hallway had come in rather apprehensively, saving him from being subjected to more of his father's lectures. He slipped away from the man and the monster, heading to the open doors as they talked of important manners. And with the impatience of a small child, he escaped under his father's detection, clenching his fists.

Whatever his father had meant, he would be certain to train harder this time. He would become the man his father had promised he could be. He would surpass the limtations other Saiyans had faced. He would destroy all those who opposed him and create the strongest empire one day, one in which they could overtake Lord Frieza, the monster his father had been so upset about. And then he would make his father proud, becoming the man he was supposed to be. That was all that mattered to the prince, no matter the number of lives he had to take out, the number of planets destroyed.

No matter how monstrous the deed was, it didn't matter. He would prove himself a man no matter what, as long as he had his royal pride.


End file.
